Revenge
by Aryn Reisa
Summary: Deimos is getting real tired of Cain's bs


The door hissed to a close behind Deimos as he slipped in. His room was clean and his navigator's bed was still made from several days ago. Not that he was too surprised, they knew from the beginning that neither of them wanted to be around the other. He kicked his boots off and set them by the foot of his bed, if you could call it that. He shook his hair out of his face and stripped off his sweaty suit. Spending all day running around after Cain wasn't quite as glamorous as one might think.

He stepped into the tiny shower, allowing the freezing water to wash away the grime of the day. He scrubbed roughly, nearly opening his latest injury but he didn't care. If he'd cared days, no months ago, he probably wouldn't be in the situation he was in now. As it was, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed again, clad in only a towel and turning his knife over in his hand. Deimos knew Cain wouldn't approve but Cain wasn't around. He never was anymore, always off with his pretty little navigator. Deimos hated him, not just for stealing Cain but because he could see why everyone wanted him. He knew Cain had him follow Abel- no, his name is navigator- around sometimes because the fighters would try to grab at him and the blonde was too useless to even know how to defend himself. Deimos himself could see it perfectly, it was no wonder Cain left him alone these days. Not when he had a willing, frail new toy; one that couldn't put up a fight like Deimos could if he overstepped his boundaries.

He let out a shuddering sigh and forced his mind away from Cain and his navigator. It didn't work of course and with a quiet growl, he leaned over to open the drawer and pull out one of his knives. He flipped it expertly in his hand and placed the blade over the skin of his hip, bearing down slightly. With a swift jerk of his wrist, he split his skin open and watched as the blood welled up before start to trail over the jut of his hip. He traced a pattern through the blood, raising his finger to his mouth to suck it clean. Grey eyes closed briefly and despite his trained skills, he missed the sound of the door opening.

He did, however, hear the soft gasp and he looked up to see Abel standing in the doorway, his nervous gaze darting between the blood on his body and the knife pointed at him. But his gentle nature took over and he bustled over to Deimos, biting his lip.

"Oh! Um, are you okay? No, that's a stupid question. Where's your first-aid kit?" he said frantically, his large eyes wider than usual. Deimos blinked for a moment before looking pointedly at the bathroom door. He listened as the navigator rustled around in his bathroom before emerging with the kit that all personnel were required to have and keep stocked while on board. Abel sat next to him, a bottle of antiseptic already in his hand. He blushed when he held up the towel he was going to use and Deimos gave a soft, irritated sigh before leaning back on his elbows.

"Tell me if it hurts, alright?" he cautioned before pressing the towel to the open wound. Deimos hissed as the usual burn came but his hand shot out quickly to keep Abel's hand there as he tried to move away. The fighter watched the bubbling of chemicals along with his uninvited guest before finally releasing his wrist. Abel pulled the towel away, gently wiping the remaining blood smears away before bandaging the cut itself. When he finished, he put everything back in the kit and set it on the far corner of the bed before giving Deimos a nervous look.

They said nothing for a long moment before Abel finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry for just barging in, I was looking for Cain and some fighters said they had seen him come in here. I thought it was just a storage area he came to smoke in or something."

Deimos sat up then, his face as blank as ever as he got on his knees to scoot closer to Abel. The navigator tensed up, unsure and leaning away when a hand on his chest stopped him.

"What are you doing?" he asked nervously, not sure if he wanted to bolt or not.

"… I can see why Cain wants you." Deimos rasped simply, his free hand coming up to trace over the scar that Cain had never given him. A wicked idea appeared in his mind; it would be the best way to get his revenge on Cain. He gripped Abel's chin firmly, noticing how his blush increased tenfold when they locked gazes. With a miniscule smirk, he leaned forward until his lips brushed over the blonde's.

Abel gasped quietly but Deimos didn't shove his tongue in like he knew Cain would have. Instead he pulled back a fraction, only to take Abel's bottom lip in between his teeth and toy with it. The navigator's eyes were wide at first but they closed gently as Deimos played with him, gentle like a young girl with her kitten. Deimos sucked on his lip, letting the tip of his tongue run over it teasingly. Abel whimpered and Deimos pulled away to look at his flushed face. A dazed second later, Abel came back to his senses and stood up quickly, backing away from the bed. He tried to stutter something, perhaps an apology or a rejection but Deimos didn't give him the chance. He stood as well and despite his smaller stature, Abel still backed away, nearly tripping over himself until his back hit the door. The fighter truly smiled then because he could see why Abel wanted to get away so badly. He pressed against the blonde, fisting his jacket as he leaned up to kiss him again. Abel melted into the kiss, sweeter than anything he had ever shared with Cain. When they broke apart, he looked less scared of Deimos and more apprehensive in general. He was probably thinking of what Cain would do if he found out.

"Deimos." The shorter whispered, his clear grey eyes still fixed on Abel's face.

"What? Oh." He glanced away, chewing his lip. "I suppose you already know my name."

Deimos nodded and let go of him, taking a few steps back. He gave the navigator an once-over before speaking again. "Meet me here again, two nights from now. Tell Cain you're working late." He commanded, not surprised when Abel nodded obediently. He gave Deimos one last look before slipping out of the room, as quietly as he came. Deimos smirked to himself as the door hissed closed, planning out his next moves. He could certainly handle Cain; he would never hear a whisper of it. While he was busy battling for dominance amongst the other fighters, Deimos could use his stealthy tactics to execute his plan to break one of the few things Cain valued.


End file.
